Traitor
by Emerald-Water
Summary: There's time everyone needs a little help, because there are times where fate strikes and you can't do anything against it. And destiny isn't always something supernatural... Sam 4/Dean 8 hurt/comfort/angst; John and Bobby - Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Hi folks! This is my new Weechester-Story.

There's time everyone needs a little help, because there are times where destiny strikes and you can't do anything against it.  
And destiny isn't always something supernatural!? ;) (Sam 4/Dean 8)

I don't own them... and I don't want money. Just doing it for you guys to enjoy a story!

-Lee

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**TRAITOR**

_Then:_

It was late as he sat on one of the tables at the Roadhouse, listening to the banter of others like him. The name "Winchester" caught his attention. And he listened to the words the person known as Pastor Elkin, a medium, a prophet had to say. His gut churning more and more in anger with every word spoken…

„He's dangerous! He's raised as a warrior. And he knows the weaknesses of our kin. He'll be a traitor. He'll use his knowledge to enslave mankind. He must be stopped."

The three men listened to Pastor Elkin, nodding at the man's words. He needed to be stopped! At all costs!

SPNSPN

It had been a slow evening. John enjoyed being at home. They had cooked Spaghetti and he started to grin as he remembered Sammy eating, tomato-sauce all over his face and shirt. It was a mess. Now it was past ten and it was time for both boys to go to bed. "Daaaad!" Dean whined. "Can't we stay up a little longer? We're not tired!" John raised his eyebrows at that. "And you're yawning why?" he smiled as Dean tried to close his mouth to stop.

"Bed. Now!" he commanded, still grinning.

"Daaadddyyy!" Sammy squealed. "Do you gonna read us a story?" Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother's request. John laughed, and scooped Sammy up in his arms. "We'll see. First you have to get changed!"

The first rumbling of a spring-time thunderstorm was harbinger of the drama that night.

He was almost asleep, as the loud crashing of thunder startled him. He sat up in his bed, watching at the dancing shadows created by bypassing cars. As he turned to watch out the window, he froze, looking at the dark figure wearing a hat watching him. His heartbeat sped up and he felt his mouth go dry as adrenalin rushed through his body. He blinked trying to clear the cobwebs from his vision… and then the figure was gone.

Instead the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something was happening. _His boys!_

At the same moment a window broke somewhere in the small house, mixing with the sound of yet another loud thunder. He was out of his bed, grabbing for his silver knife, running to the room of his children.

An ear-piercing scream echoed through the house and John felt himself freeze inside as he recognized the voice of his baby-boy.

He knew that nothing supernatural could cross the lines of salt on every windowsill and every doorstep of the house. He listened to something hitting the wall hard, hearing a strangled cry from his other boy, and then he had kicked open the door, ready to fight the attacker.

At his entrance he felt himself tackled from two meaty henchmen, both trying to pin him to the ground, but John was strong and fast. He fought dirty, kicking the first one into the groin, receiving a squealing sound as the bastard went down and ripped himself free from the second goon, as he saw Sammy being dragged back to the window by a third person. "Daddy! Let go of me! Daddy! Help me! Daddy!" the small boy fought with everything he had. _Where was Dean! _He almost had reached the third intruder as something hit him square at the shoulder-blades, letting him topple over, and before he could rise again, his head connected with something and his vision grew hazy. He still could hear the cries of his little boy… and no sound from his oldest… but his worry faded away with his consciousness…

...

He stopped with squealing tires. Not caring about shutting down the engine. This was too important. With hurried steps he ran up the few stairs to the porch and the front-door. So far nothing seemed to be disturbed. With force he knocked against the door, waiting impatiently for some reaction. Getting none, he tried a second time, but again he received no answer.

He stood back and kicked at the door. One time, two times and on the third time it bulged, revealing the darkness that lurked behind it.

He drew his gun, flicking the safety off. This was no good. John would have been awake by now. Slowly he moved further into the small house, relying only on his hearing. From somewhere a groan could be heard and Bobby followed the noise, stopping dead at the door that led to the boy's room. John was lying in the middle of the room sprawled out and only on the verge of consciousness. He flicked on the light and was at the fallen man's side with two fast steps. "Winchester! John! John! Where are the boys! John, come one man, you need to wake up…" John's eyes snapped open. "Bobby?" he asked confused, than the confusion was replaced by panic. "They took Sammy! They took Sammy! And Dean… where's Dean…" He fought himself into a sitting position, ignoring the splitting headache. He needed to find his children… and then he felt his breath hitch in his throat as he saw the crimson smear, running along the wall and the crumbled heap, lying at the bottom of it. Bobby saw him staring, and followed his gaze. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, as both man looked at the small unmoving form. "Oh-my-lord…" Bobby breathed…

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**_TBC..._**

Well? You like it so far??


	2. Chapter 2

Hi!  
Okay, thank you all for the reviews... I never thought so many people would read this, as it isn't a very long story... also I'm not finished after today's update.

Some of you may think the story sound's like an "END" and well, they aren't wrong either... enough of babbling, here's the second chapter.

* * *

_... He needed to find his children… and then he felt his breath hitch in his throat as he saw the crimson smear, running along the wall and the crumbled heap, lying at the bottom of it. Bobby saw him staring, and followed his gaze. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, as both man looked at the small unmoving form. "Oh-my-lord…" Bobby breathed… _

John felt his breath coming in harsh and thready, as he suddenly remembered the loud thud he had heard earlier… it had been his oldest, connecting with the wall! He felt bile running up his throat and before he could do anything he vomited onto the carpet, heavy heaves shaking his frame. He groaned, falling back just avoiding the disgusting puddle on the floor, wrapping his arm around his head. One mantra repeating itself over and over and over again in his head: _Don't let them die, don't let them die, don't let them die…_

_SPNSPN_

The men were holding the kid down. The little devil still screamed and kicked and fought with everything he had. "Let me go! Let me go! Daddy! Dean! No!" the kid was yelling on the top of his lungs. Pastor Elkins didn't seem to be disturbed. He knelt in front of the altar, in a silent prayer, a cross in his hand. Eventually he rose wordlessly, moving over. The little boy wriggled trying to break free of the two men holding him spread eagle. Pastor Elkins met the kid's eyes, looking into the dark green orbs, he again started to pray, loud and unwavering. With the word "Amen" he raised the hand holding the cross over his head, ready to stop the demonic child; Ready to impale the little boy. "No! Don't do it… Daddy!!" Crying hard the small child closed his eyes in terror, and then the world turned into a cacophony of thunderous blasts. Pastor Elkins was hit several times in the chest. His blood splattered onto the kid as the prophet tried to go on with another prayer, not able to breathe anymore, because of the blood filling his lungs. Slowly the pastors raised arm fell powerless to his side, the cross, he had wanted to kill with tumbled to the floor, and then he followed…

_SPNSPN_

A gentle hand was on his back, leading him into a sitting position, steadying him. But it took a while for John to be able to hear the words. "Calm down John. Everything's okay. I got it all covered. Don't worry…"

John concentrated to breathe evenly, and after a while the suffocating feeling vanished. "Dean…" he breathed, his voice shaky. He closed his eyes as another wave of dizziness washed over him, and as he opened them again, he felt something soft and warm placed into his arms. "You keep an eye on him, okay? Don't worry. Help is on the way. You just sit here and keep him safe. Put pressure on the gash on his head, will you? And… stay calm,… you don't help if you start to freak. Okay? I'm just outside the door, waiting for the ambulance. Got it?" The rough voice asked, but didn't wait for a reply, already turning back to the door, leaving John alone with his son, lying in his arms motionless.

He was more alert now, though his head still hurt and the room spun, what told him he probably had suffered a concussion. Then there was this detached feeling, as if he wasn't involved, as if it wasn't his little family being in danger. He felt like he was only a bystander, watching on, as destiny struck some strangers. He concentrated at the small body in his arms, listening as a cell-phone started to ring and Bobby's rough voice answering the call. John leant back on the wall for support, cradling his boy closer to him… please, let it be good news…

…

"We got the boy!" He nodded in relieve. "Great! That's good Daniel. Thanks for the fast help. You got the sons-of-bitches as well?" he wanted to know. "Yeah, well, at least three of them. One could escape." "Shit!" Bobby cursed. "You know who?" "Sorry, Bobby." "How's the kid?" Bobby asked his voice suddenly gentle and husky. "He's in shock and a little bruised up, not talking, only crying silently. I already called an ambulance. Well, it was terse. A few seconds later… He almost got impaled with a cross…" Daniel said. "Great god…" Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay… The father and brother are alive. Both a little banged up. Ambulance's arriving now. I see you in a few!" Bobby canceled the connection and pocketed his cell-phone, showing the paramedics into the house.

...

Dean was lifted from his father's arms and put on a stretcher, the paramedics working on him. For a moment Bobby watched them, and then he turned back to John who was helped onto a stretcher as well. Bobby could see the man's glazed over eyes, knowing it as the clear signs of concussion. He crouched down in front of him, waiting for a reaction.

"Sammy?" the man asked, his voice barely a whisper. Bobby grinned gently: "We got him. He'll have some bruises and is a little shell-shocked, but alive. He's on his way to hospital. I've arranged that he will be brought to you right away." He watched the man closely, seeing the unshed tears John Winchester still held back.

The commotion behind his back let Bobby turn around. "Keep him calm! Keep him down! Boy… Boy, stay calm. Everything's allr…" a foot connected with the paramedics head and at the same time they could hear Dean starting to scream: "No! You'll not get him! You'll have to kill me first… help! Dad!" John was on his feet and stumbled over to Dean's side. "Dean! Dean! Come on buddy! Open your eyes… it's okay! It's over…" his voice was soft but at the same time demanding, as he scooped the boy up and in his arms again, ignoring the flying fists and feet.

It took a moment for Dean to comprehend the words. His head hurt, and his arm hurt, and his hip and leg… _Sammy!!_ Only as he could smell his father, feel his strong arms around him, he knew it was really over and he was safe. And only than the fight left him and he gave into the fright and hurt and pain and terror and started to cry into John's shoulder.

"Shhh! It's okay! You're alright. Sammy is safe… Shhh!" his father soothed, rocking him gently. "Sir? We need to bring him to the hospital. He must be checked over. I guess the head wound needs stitches and he probably got a moderate concussion." John nodded. "Can I ride with him?" John asked a little choked. "You should…" as the paramedic saw the look both men gave him he sighed. "I guess it's alright. But you should let yourself be treated when we're there." John nodded. "I will, but first things first."

...

The night at the hospital had been awful, but Bobby had held his word and had taken care of everything. John had stubbornly denied treatment, not leaving Dean's side the whole time, only for the moment as he saw a paramedic carrying Sammy into the ER. He almost stumbled in his haste to get to his baby-boy, gently prying him from her grasp and hugging him close, one hand on the back of the small boy's head. Time seemed to expand into eternity, as sat at there ready to fight any doctor who'd want to take Sam away from him, while watching over the sleep of his oldest boy.  
The blur stretched out far into the next morning, as Bobby came back into the room, telling him about what had happened last night.

He could feel his grip around Sam's frame tighten as Bobby explained, in gentle words what the men had been up to. About the priest who was sure Sam was one of the demonic children, about his plan to kill Sam on holy grounds. John just sat there, petrified, not able to comprehend as he looked at the innocence reflecting in his child's face. It had never occurred to him that something natural could almost destroy what he had left of his family. And with this thought running through his head, he left the hospital two days later. Knowing that the pretending times would be over, soon. His children had to be taught and prepared. He'd have to be more than just a father…

**One week later...**

The house was quiet since that night seven days ago, but only during day-time. At nights terror dominated. There would be tossing and turning, screaming and crying. And John would sit waiting in the living-room, ready to ease, to save and to soothe. Sure, he napped a few hours during the day, but at night, all his senses were alert.

"Daddy?" he had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he jumped at the small voice coming from the door. "Dean? What are you doing up?" he asked, his voice tired and old. The boy limped over to him, letting him almost wince in sympathy. John knew how the left side of Dean's body looked like; all bruises, slowly fading. "I… we…" only now John could see that there was someone close to Dean, holding his hand and arm tightly. "Could we stay with you, daddy?" Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper.

John could feel tears stinging in his eyes, suddenly everything his little family had endured came crashing down on him. He sat stock-still, staring at his two little son's standing there, and then rushed forward, kneeling in front of them hugging them close to him.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'll never let anything happen to you again…I promise, nothing like that will ever happen again… " he whispered, tears streaming down his face, as he rocked both boys while they cried together.

Eventually the weeping stopped and John smiled sadly, as he saw both boys had gone back to sleep, Sammy with a thumb in his mouth, while Dean still clutched his father's shirt. He pulled them up with him, returning to the couch, both boys snuggled up at him, and watched their sleep, until he too, finally drifted off into a dreamless slumber...

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Hope you liked what you read... and no, this is really NOT the end... just trust me.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi all!  
So, here's the next part of "Traitor". I guess you can say it's a story of it's own - somehow... but I could connect it!

Enjoy!

_

* * *

____Now..._

This had been the strangest dream he had ever had. It had really been the view of a four year and he felt his pyjama-bottoms stick to him because he was drenched in sweat. Something had woken him up, out of this nightmare right at the moment where he had been safe in his fathers arms, listening to his dad's heartbeat. The scratching sound drew his attention and his eyes snapped open, only to meet the faces of two strangers standing over him. One of him pressed a cloth on his face and he immediately felt funny, knowing it had to be chloroform. He tried for a moment to fight against the hands that kept him down but lost… Dean… why wasn't he awake by now… then the world darkened...

...

"Sam! Sam! Wake up!" He had been to slow with the knife. Before he even had the chance to draw it, one man was on top of him, grabbing his arms in a bruising grip, ripping him from the bed he had slept on only seconds before. He was flung to the floor and felt the air in his lungs being pressed out, as his opponents knee smashed in his back, right between the shoulder blades, leaving him unable to breathe for a moment. But the guy didn't let him have time to recoup. With power he was dragged up and pushed against the wall. This time Dean was prepared and he pulled up his leg, hitting his adversary hard in the stomach.

The man let go of Dean, and he used the opportunity to let his elbow come down on the man's neck. Free for a moment Dean yelled again: "Damn! Sam! Wake up!" Jumping over the guy on the ground, he dashed forward to the other two men who were pulling his sleeping brother up. Before he could reach them, he felt someone grab his ankle tightly pulling him off balance. With a yelp, he fell, landing hard onto the edge of the bed. A blinding pain ran up his chest, and he could feel his ribs give away under the pressure of the fall. Then he felt loosing the ground under his feet, as the man, he had brought down had grabbed him again, shoving him for a second time hard against the wall.

He blinked against the tears in his eyes, trying to breathe but nothing reached his lungs. He felt the man's forearm pressing harder, denying him any oxygen. These eyes… Dean blinked against the haze already obscuring his view. He knew these eyes… _and then he was back in his childhood, the evening when strangers came into the house taking his little brother with them. He had fought as hard as he could against the men, trying to kidnap his brother. One of them had turned around, looking menacing at him, grabbing him on the rim of his pyjama and threw him into the far wall… _he was helpless looking at the two men dragging his limp brother with them, his own body giving in into the lack of oxygen.

"Never thought we would come back for your freak-brother, huh?" he heard the man with the dangerous eyes whispering into his ear. "You couldn't stop us the last time… only because of the traitor your brother could live so long. We swore to Pastor Elkins bones that we will accomplish his crusade. It's his legacy to us." He felt his head being smashed into the wall, and then the rough hands of the man were gone. Without the support holding him upright Dean crumbled to the ground.

_SPNSPN_

Sam stirred. His head felt heavy in an uncomfortable kind of way. _Hangover?_ He thought about what had happened but came up blank. As he tried to open his eyes he felt something stopping the movement. His breath hitched as he now recognized he was gagged as well… _what the hell…_ he felt being bound spread eagle as more of his alertness came back. The rope cut into his skin and his limbs felt swollen, caused from the lack of circulation. The ground beneath him was cold and wet, but it was hard, so he probably wasn't outside. Then he could hear steps echo. It sounded like a large room… like, the nave of a church? He felt his heart-beat fastening. _Was he still dreaming?_ Someone kicked him lightly but without care into his side and he jerked away. "He's awake father!" Sam choked. This was his nightmare… a church, he bound, a priest… he cried out into his gag and received another kick. "Shut up! There's no need to scream – yet!" the stranger snickered.

"Benjamin, silence. I need to prepare…" a sonorous voice said. "Yes, father, of course." The man said guiltily. Sam felt him kneel down beside him, his mouth so near at his ear, that he could feel the hot breath of the man running down his neck. "You'll die! Tonight we'll finish what Pastor Elkins started. You'll not betray mankind! Bastard!" he hissed into Sam's ear and Sam just freaked. He started to pull on the rope binding him, while screaming against the rug stuffed into his mouth, almost passing out on the lack of oxygen. He could hear an annoyed sigh. "Benjamin. Would you keep him quiet as well?" the priest asked his voice sounding slightly edgy now. "Sure father!" Sam never felt what hit him…

_SPNSPN_

For a moment Dean had to think about why he was lying on the floor. Then he remembered the men who'd come for his brother. Again! He tried to sit up but cried out as his ribs protested in pain. Shit! He hated that. With energy drawn from his temper, he first sat and then stood using the wall as support. Angrily he limped over to the nightstand, grabbing his phone and hitting speed-dial, waiting for the connection and started to pace as he could hear the dialing-tone.  
Enraged he disconnected as he was redirected to voice-mail, and dialed the second number.

Again he counted the dialing-tone and then almost screamed into the phone as someone picked up: "WHY THE HELL DID YOU NEVER TELL ME!!" "Dean?" Bobby's voice was calm what made Dean even more mad. "You freaking lied to me!" he accused.  
"Dean! What are you talking about!" Bobby demanded now gruffly. "November, 1987!" He retorted in rage.

Bobby seemed to need to think about this. "Damn Bobby! The guys kidnapped Sam from our home, wanted to kill him. I only know you were involved and that the bastards got what they deserved…" he stopped there catching his breath. "Dad…" he again stopped, almost choking. "Dad told me they couldn't come back…" "Dean…" Bobby started.

"Don't you dare and Dean me!!" He spat into the receiver. "I know at least one is alive!" he added heated "What?!" Bobby's voice went up a notch. "Don't shit me! You hear? Do you think I'm a moron? I never forgot about that night! Or those eyes…" "Dean…"

"Damn! They came tonight! They took Sam… don't play for time! Just tell me who is after my brother and tell me what I need to know! How did you found Sam just in time back then!" Dean's voice went from angry into despair and finally Bobby understood. "Great god… Okay… okay… listen and listen well…"

_**TBC...**_

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Well? How was that?


	4. Chapter 4

Hi all!  
Hope you'll still want to know how the story continues? It's mostly now Sam's point of view. ENJOY!!

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Time ran out on him. He had researched the area. There were a couple of churches but Bobby told him it had to be a catholic church, one devoted to the Virgin Mary. He started to despair as he couldn't find any churches with that name, and it had taken him valuable time to find out about the one that burned down in the eighties and was rebuild under the name of Saint Peter.

The district were the church lay was run-down; Old buildings, broken street-lights, filthy alleys. No one breathing was out there, no one who'd help anyways. As he reached Saint Peter's, he just knew Sam would be in there. He shut down the engine of the Impala, his breath coming in small gasps, his blood saturated with adrenalin. He remembered Bobby's words about the ritual, about what they would do to his baby-brother and he started to shiver. _"They think he's a demonic-child, that he'll become the traitor to mankind. They will kill him on holy ground, in a church devoted to the Virgin Mary, because she was blessed and innocent. His blood will be spilled there… Dean, they are gonna impale him with a cross, right through his heart and they will burn his dead, but still bleeding body at the moment the first sun-rays of the new day will hit the earth. You don't have much time left. There's a prayer that will take place before the killing but when you didn't get to him before sunrise it will be to late. And Dean… they are only men. You're not fighting against something supernatural!!" Bobby's voice was adjuring. _

"_Whatever they are, Bobby… they are NOT human."_ _was all Dean said, before he hung up on him._

Now he stood at the portal to the church trying to catch his breath, hoping that his brother was still alive, that he wasn't too late, that he didn't fail again in protecting him. He turned around for a last time cursing the break of dawn.  
_Just hold on, little brother! I'm coming! Please let him be alright!_

With these thoughts running through his head he burst through the thick wooden portal.

_SPNSPN_

Sam wasn't conscious. The last couple of hours? Or days? had been a blur. In the moments of lucidity he could hear voices echoing, knowing somehow he was in danger, but he never was able to hold onto that thought. He knew he was hurt, that he was supposed to cry out in pain, every time someone touched him, and touching they did.

Then, at some point the commotion started. It was different from the time before. The air around him felt suddenly tense and angry and… familiar. Somehow this change in energy surrounding him let him hope, let him struggle to come back to the surface of real consciousness, also he didn't know what gave him that strength.

Someone was yelling… he could hear a cold voice in return and then felt the air around him explode. Something heavy fell onto him, buried him beneath and he knew he would die. Whatever it was, he wasn't able to breathe anymore, the weight was too much to bear. The darkness he had subdued, now rushed back to him and then… on the verge of the abyss he could feel that presence again.

The weight who had crushed him only moments before seemed suddenly to withdraw only to be replaced from another weight, pushing hard and only for a short time into him, giving him a burst of energy as if it was trying to ignite his spirit. He felt himself jerk and with a loud gasp he drew in his first breath, suddenly aware that his lungs screamed for oxygen. His panting soon turned into a harsh coughing-fit and he recognized that his gag was gone, as well as all the ropes that had held him in place. Hands were everywhere, it seemed, but no longer were they brutal and rough. No, those hands were gentle and warm and… "Sammy!" It was only one word, but all that needed to be said. He felt those soothing hands guiding him up, wrapping around him, helping him to calm down his breathing, trying to keep him from shaking, softly rocking him for a moment, as if he was a child again and also he still couldn't see, he knew he was safe now.

Then the hands withdrew, only to hold onto his face. "Shit, this is gonna hurt Sammy…" Dean's voice was husky and full of pity. Without another warning searing pain shot through his face, his eyes, as Dean yanked off the duct-tape his captors had put over his eyes.

Tears streamed down Sam's face immediately and his breath hitched into a small sob. "Sorry…" his brother breathed, arms around his shoulder again, steadying him, soothing the harsh shivers that shook his frame. "It's over. I gotcha bro. I gotcha. Everything's fine now… relax! I'll take care of everything. Shhh…"

Sam looked into Dean's worried face, his sight blurred by the tears that still streamed down his face and then let himself fall into Dean's arms, unable to keep himself upright anymore, more exhausted than he had ever been.

He didn't know how long they continued to sit on the floor, his brother keeping him anchored, but he again was on the brink of unconsciousness, as he felt being dragged to his feet wondering how Dean could still have that much energy left in him.

He never felt being put into the car, nor the drive back, nor how he was carried into the motel room, or the gentle hands that tended on his wounds.

He had just given into the pull of darkness, knowing that Dean was here. Believing his very word…

_TBC..._

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Comments? Suggestions? Questions? ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Hey folks!

Well, it seems it's a little longer short-story... sorry! ;) ENJOY the new chapter!

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Dean didn't want to be quiet. He wanted them to know he was coming. He wanted them to fight. What had been fear before, was now fury. Fury against the men that had dared them, at the man who'd taunted him that he'd be not able to safe his brother. They all didn't know what a Winchester was capable of.

But whatever he had expected it wasn't what he saw. Sam lay sprawled out in the nave of the church, spread eagle. His arms and feet were bound and to each side one person knelt, only the one on his brother's feet was standing, his arms outstretched a heavy, gleaming cross in one hand, praying loudly. For a moment Dean was frozen. Then time seemed to catch up as the priest standing at Sam's feet shouted a devoted "Amen", took the cross in both hands and raised it high above his head.

Dean stopped breathing altogether, levering his gun, aiming and… the cross came down in an arc, aiming for Sam's chest, as the first bullet left his gun and he started to run forward, his weapon still aiming at the priest, firing again. Another shot rocked the sanctuary of the church and only now Dean heard the words he had bellowed at the group of men in front of him. "Get off of him!" his voice echoed from the walls of the church.

He watched as the cross fell through open hands, hands that suddenly didn't seem to have enough power to hold it anymore and with the third bullet Dean had aimed at him, the priest fell, blood spluttering everywhere burying Sam under him.

The three man kneeling on each side of Sam didn't dare to move, hands held upwards, staring at the corps of the dead priest, whose eyes were wide open, staring unbelieving, unseeing.

"Back!" Dean ordered, his voice harsh, his heart thumping hard against his ribcage, his senses over alert. He watched the three man shuffled backwards ever so slowly… and then the one with the cruel eyes had something shiny in his hands. He saw it flying at him, hurtling towards him, as he pulled again the trigger, doubletapping the guy, while at the same time diving out of the knifes flight path. He could feel it graze his shoulders hissing in pain at the burning sensation, and then he had rolled and was on his feet again, feeling his gun knocked from his hands as the other two advanced on him.

The first guy he send flying head first into one of the pew almost smirking as he heard the crunch of the mans nose and ducked out of the way, as the other one had reached him, trying to hit him in the face. The fight didn't last long, before his opponent moved straight into Dean's outstretched arm, giving a gurgling sound from him, he fell and lay still.

Panting heavily, Dean didn't waste any time, just stumbled the couple of steps over to Sam, who still was buried underneath the priest's burly form. He fell on his knees, searching for his pocket-knife and cut through the tight ropes, wincing as he saw the raw wrists of his little brother. With all his might he pulled off the churchman from Sam, feeling his arms suddenly shake as he could, for the first time, see his brother's face. His complexion was ashen, a slightly blueish tinge to it and he could see several abrasions and a rather large cut that still seeped slightly. Removing the gag cautiously he saw more damage to his siblings face, clenching his teeth in anger. "Sam…" his voice was a mere whisper, as he suddenly was afraid, that even if he was here before sunrise it was too late for Sam. His fingers moved down to the spot in the crook of his brother's neck, searching for a pulse, almost sighing in relieve as he felt it throb painfully fast against his finger-tips and it was then, that he recognized what he missed. The rising and falling of Sam's chest!

For a moment panic swept over him, daring to drown every sense out of him, but then he remembered his father's lessons. He straddled Sam to have a better angle, positioned his hands on his brother's stomach and pushed upwards, irritating the diaphragm. The reaction was immediately. Sam took in a gasp and started to cough. With ease and care he lifted Sam into a sitting position, trying to help him to get through the fit. "Sammy…" he wrapped his arms around Sam, keeping him upright, leant against him for support, while stroking circles on his back. After a while the coughing subsided, but he felt the shivers still running through his brothers body and so he continued to rock him softly back and forth. He gently pushed back as he felt Sam relax a little, looking at the duct-tape plastered over Sam's eyes already wincing in sympathy. He cupped Sam's face whispering softly: "Shit, this is gonna hurt Sammy…" his voice husky and full of pity. Without waiting for a response, he grabbed at the duct-tape and yanked. Dean saw Sam's eyes snap open, tears already starting to stream down in cascades, his breath hitching at the back of his throat, suppressing a sob. With a breathed "Sorry…" he embraced Sam again, feeling the shudders growing harder and started to mumble nonsense in his distressed brother's ear. "It's over. I gotcha bro. I gotcha. Everything's fine now… relax! I'll take care of everything. Shhh…" For a moment Sam turned his head, looking him straight in the eye, then it seemed he finally understood that it was him speaking, as he let himself fall forward, being caught by Dean, who continued to hold onto him for a couple more minutes. As he felt Sam's shaking starting to lessen, he decided that they needed to go.

Dragging Sam to his feet, they started their long way back to the Impala, waiting outside for them. As they reached the wooden portal, Sam slumped further into his arms, letting Dean careen under the weight, but he managed to drag his almost unresponsive brother to the car and into the passengers side. With one last glance back to the run-down church, Dean rolled his shoulders, watching the sun rise. He could feel the exhaustion set in, but knew he would have to first help his brother.

Sam was alive. With the rest he could deal. Everything was good now.

**_TBC..._**

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_Again... Comments? Suggestions? Criticism_


	6. Chapter 6

Hi folks!

Thanks for being this patient ;) I had a couple of rough days, so... sorry! But here we go with the last chapter.  
And I tell you... one day there's probably a comeback here... well, go and see/read for yourself!

And thanks for all the feedback!! You guys rock!

* * *

The first time Sam came around was three hours later. He blinked confused, only remembering blurred images, words and emotions. His head hurt like a mother, trying to reach up he winced as his ribs and wrists were jostled with the movement. He flinched as suddenly a face appeared in his view, blinking rapidly to focus on the intruder… Dean.

His brother looked like dead and warmed up again, and somehow Sam couldn't suppress a mad chuckle, earning an raised eyebrow. "Going into hysterics again Sammy?" Dean asked, his eyes betraying the lightness of his voice. There was a dark gleam in his brothers green orbs. "Wht happnd?" Sam asked instead, turning serious. "They wanted to kill me…" he added. He watched Dean's reaction, and sure enough he could read his brother's thoughts. "Dean…" Sam's voice sounded already sleepy again. "I don't know yet." Dean said, while he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go back to sleep." Dean told him, his gaze wandering off to the floor. Sam felt his eyes close and forced them open again, watching his brother, knowing that he hadn't said the truth. But he simply was too tired to fight right now. His gaze stopped at the small dark-red patch on Dean's shoulder, for a moment wondering whose blood it was, then he had drifted off to sleep again.

...

Dean was dead-tired. He had checked his brother over, already knowing that Sam had suffered at least a concussion. The cut on his forehead, was cleaned and held by butterfly-strips, as well as all the other little cuts that had been inflicted. He had ground his teeth in rage as he saw all the bruises on his brothers torso, luckily no ribs were broken. But still, Sam would have the hell of a time for the next couple of days.

He watched Sam sleeping for a while, still feeling that churning in his stomach, his anger not stilled completely.

This should have never happened. He should have known about the men. He was the one responsible for Sammy his whole life, and his Dad didn't mention one word about the people searching for his brother? Trying to kill him? Thinking of him as a demonic-child?

He saw Sam's eyelids flutter, Relief, excitement and dread suddenly replaced the anger and he stood, bending over his brother. He swallowed hard, as Sam flinched but relaxed a little as he almost immediately started to chuckle. Shaking his head slightly he asked: "Going into hysterics again Sammy?" hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to answer the question about what happened. But Sam wouldn't be Sam if he didn't ask. "Wht happnd?" He felt his mind rush to come up with an answer that would avoid the topic, for now at least. He didn't want to talk or think about what had happened, what COULD have happened. "They wanted to kill me…" he could hear Sam's slightly slurred voice breaking his line of thought. "Dean…" hearing the weariness, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes suddenly very interested in his boots. "I don't know yet." He answered, knowing that Sam wouldn't be satisfied. "Go back to sleep." He felt Sam's eyes on him, feeling uncomfortable at the scrunity. As he dared to look up again Sam was fast asleep again.

_Late afternoon…_

He jerked, sitting up startled. He must have fallen asleep! Turning bleary eyes he saw the bed beside him empty. His breathing-rate started to increase. Sammy! He stopped his upward movement, as it caused the world to spin. Sitting down heavily he didn't hear the door to the bathroom open, only as someone sat on the bed opposite of him he glanced up.

"Hey…" Sam's voice was soft, his face pale, only the cuts, bruises and the skinned patches where the duct-tape had been were standing out in a harsh and colorful contrast. "How are you?" Dean asked already knowing the answer. He wasn't able to suppress a yawn. "I've been worse." Sam answered, touching his cut cautiously. "Sorry…" Dean said, shrugging his shoulder. "What for?" Sam wanted to know. "I… " he motioned to the bed he sat on. "I… I must have fallen asleep." Dean said helpless. Sam laughed quietly. "Dude, you look like one of the things we're hunting! Did you take time to look in the mirror?" Dean's face grew dark. "Had been too busy to help my little freak-brother to…" he stopped there, already sorry. "Yeah… about that… " Sam said, his eyes holding no grudge but gratitude. "I know it must have been a rough night. I… I… somehow it was weird." Sam stumbled over his own words. "I think I remember… no, I know I was in a church. It was a strange kind of déjà vu. Like this already happened… Dean?" Dean sat frozen, staring at his brother in disbelieve. He just couldn't remember, could he? He had been what? Three years old?

"Dean!" he snapped out of it, returning his brothers gaze. "It already happened once." He said. Sam stared at him. "Come again?" Sam used his phrase. "It happened. Twenty years ago. Dad never told me much about it, only that some nutcases broke into our house and took you. I never knew more…"

"How did you find me?" Sam asked, demanding. "They never bothered to tell me…" Dean mumbled. "What is that supposed to mean?" "Damn, Sam. Would you just stop pestering me?" he was tired now and didn't need Sam bitching about this. It wasn't his fault was it?

"You don't believe I stop asking now, do you?" Sam retorted, his voice into full-conflict-tone.

"Yeah, whatever!" Dean replied, grabbing the TV's remote-control, making clear that HE would stop talking now. "How did you… Dean?" Sam saw Dean staring at the newscast, showing the smoldering remains of a church and his own mouth dropped open.

"Did you…??" the question died on his lips as he saw Dean's eyes growing even bigger and listened to the reporter's last words… "… three were killed. The police is on the case already investigating the arson…" "Dean?" Dean tore his eyes away from the TV.

"I… there were four." He stuttered. "I… I had to shot at two… before they…" he stopped then exhaling deeply.  
"Sam, I swear! I didn't know! I tried so hard to stop them… but I was only eight! Dad… he told me that everything had been taken care of, that no one could ever get you again… and… and…" Dean stopped looking down at his hands. "If I just had known… they never told me. Last night, one intruder was one of them! I swear! I would never forget eyes like this…"

Sam stared at Dean, feeling the pain of betrayal wavering over to him and his anger dissipated, his eyes softened. "What had happened if you had known? You think you could have stopped them?" he asked. Dean's head snapped upwards, looking at him fiercely. "Dad and Bobby! They lied to me. How am I supposed to keep you safe, when they lie about things like that…" And there it was. Sam would have snorted, if it wasn't one of the rare times Dean shared his feelings with him. "Dean. I'm not a small kid anymore." He tried to reason. He could see his brother calm down a little, his gaze falling to the floor again. "No you're not. But you are my brother!" Sam didn't say a word, just kept on looking at Dean's slumped shoulders. "You know… you are mine too." He eventually said. Dean looked up at his words, eyebrows raised in question. Sam motioned at him. "Let me have a look at that, okay?" Dean followed his outstretched arm, looking at his shoulder and then back at Sam, suddenly a small grin on his face. "Chick-flick much, huh?" he said, his voice weary. Sam returned the grin. "Whatever dude…"

_SPNSPN_

He sat in a bar, sipping at his beer. He had underestimated the Winchester's. Again. His knuckle turned white as he hold onto the bottle tightly in his rage. He could still feel the bullet-wound to his chest. They would pay for this. Next time he would make sure that the older one wouldn't interfere, stopping the ritual. His prey had been gone after he had woken. The priest he had seduced lay dead, killed by three bullets, the other two henchmen knocked unconscious nearby. He had stood, enraged by his failure and had killed the two unconscious men in his hate. Then he had lit the church, not holy anymore anyways… looking back a last time, he felt at least a small satisfaction as he saw the burning building. He would let them know that this wasn't over yet.

He would succeed with Pastor Elkins legacy. The Pastor had been more than his mentor. He had been his father, his birthgiver. The Pastor had called upon him to be able to see. Maybe the man's intention have been good ones to stop evil, Benjamin contemplated, but he had never known, that he had born a more vicious evil amongst his own.

He sneered, his eyes glowing in a red, angry fire. He had still a chance to kill the young one, claiming his blood and inheritance to become the Traitor, the Leader of the Army of Unholy. Getting up, he left a couple of Dollar-bills on the table and turned to leave.

He had work to do…

**FINISHED... FOR NOW**


End file.
